He’s resting now. We are all trying to be quiet. He has been drinking a lot recently. Work is hard. So much pressure. I understand. It is difficult for him. No matter how hard I try I can never seem to do things quite the way I should. I always fold his t-shirts the wrong way, he has been patient so often trying to teach me. And the dinner is always too dry or too messy. Cooking just isn’t my thing.
It isn’t really the kids fault either, they fight, they are noisy. I thought that was what kids do. But no, only kids with an inadequate mother do that. I appreciate that now. There is so much that I still have to learn, to get better at. He is kind about it all, hardly ever shouts or raises his hand.
No wonder he drinks. I am his wife and should be making his life easier, not more of a burden, a struggle. He is the one who works hard to keep us fed. To keep a roof over our heads. I must try harder, I will try harder. I wish I was a better person. For him.
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